He eases himself upright until he’s sitting within the hammock, his brown suede slippers planted firmly on the cedar platform below. The blanket falls to reveal the long-sleeved cotton shirt that clings to his body. It’s nowhere near warm enough for twenty-degree weather. “They can come to the roof, sure.”

I survey the arbor gate behind me again, and the wooden lattice fence that stretches all the way around, framing this little garden. “But not into here.”

He kicks off, somehow managing to balance himself while the hammock sways. “It’s one of the few perks that comes with my job.”

“And the building owner really doesn’t care? Because I feel like this would be a code infraction or something. What if there’s a fire and the tenants have to come up to get to the fire escape?” I’m rambling, but if I keep talking then it can’t get awkward and I won’t be forced back inside.

“My experience is people travel down when there’s a fire.” He chuckles as if that’s the silliest idea, his English accent making me smile. “But if they come up here, then I guess they’ll have a nice place to sit while the building burns.”

“Fair enough.” I pause. “Did Celine ever come up here?”

A shadow flickers over his face. “No. I didn’t see much of her at all, really.”

I’m not surprised. She was afraid of heights.

Silence hangs between us and I figure I have nothing to lose. I edge toward him with the tin. “Trade you . . . One of these for a hit of what you’re smoking.”

At first Grady meets my question with a blank stare, and I think I’ve overstepped my bounds. But then he grins, a handsome boyish grin that I never noticed before. One that makes him all the more attractive. “How do I say no to that?” He accepts the tin of cookies and then eases back into his hammock, stretching a long, toned arm out to fetch the hidden joint from a planter. “It’s big enough for two,” he offers, gesturing beside him.

Normally, I would never think of climbing into a hammock with a guy I barely know, but there’s something oddly familiar about Grady and the way he offers it. No leery glances, no winks. Nothing overtly sexual beyond his natural presence.

And I’m too drained to care about any of that right now anyway.

“This could go disastrously wrong,” I warn, stepping onto the wooden platform. In answer, Grady drops his leg on the far side to stabilize us. He lifts the blankets and I climb in, resting my head on the pillow while trying not to roll on top of him. With smooth movements, he adjusts himself on my right, until we’re balanced perfectly, my shivering body pressed against his surprisingly warm one.

“Come on, it’s not that cold.” He stretches the wool blankets over me, tucking them around the far side of me, the faint scent of his soap making me inhale.

“It is when you’re coming from eighty-degree weather.”

He pulls out a grill lighter. “San Diego you said, right?”

“And before that, Ethiopia.”

That earns a raised brow.

“A humanitarian thing I’m working on,” I explain vaguely.

“Humanitarian. Interesting.” I can’t tell if he’s being sincere. Holding the joint between a set of nicely shaped lips, he lights the end.

I watch, fascinated, as he closes his eyes with his inhale, holds for a few seconds, and then opens his mouth to release a puff of smoke into the quiet night. We’re in the heart of Manhattan, but besides the occasional horn blaring, you’d never know.

“So, how’s it going with the cleanup?”

I sigh. “Okay. It’ll take weeks to clear through everything. But I have some time.” Now that I know the truth about Rosa, I’ll only be leaving here to stay with her in San Diego toward the end, whether she likes it or not.

He chuckles softly, passing the joint to me, and our fingertips graze in the exchange. His skin is rough from manual labor, but I can see that he maintains tidy nails. “I’ve never seen someone so excited by bookshelves. When I first showed her the apartment and offered to rip them out for her, she actually started crying, she was so upset. Then, two weeks after she moved in, I saw her standing outside the front door with more shelves, which she had salvaged from a tear-down site. They were tossing them and she wanted them. Don’t ask me how she got them here, but I dragged them in for her and screwed them to the wall.”

I take a long haul off the joint and feel the burn as the smoke fills my lungs. I smother the cough threatening and hold it in until my limbs sink into the canvas. Relaxation slithers into my body. By the time I’ve exhaled, a nice buzz has taken over my senses. “Yeah. Lots of creepy dolls and breakable shit.”

“I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t happy you’re here. I was afraid I was going to have to deal with those creepy dolls and breakable shit.”

“According to her appraisal friend, some of it is pretty valuable.”

“Really?” He sounds skeptical.

I take another hit and then stare at the night sky as smoke sails up. And let my body press further against Grady’s.

I sense his gaze on me as he murmurs, “I’ve never seen a dead body like that. You know, not already in a casket.”

I close my eyes.

“Do you know why she did it?” he asks.

“A guy,” I say, before I can stop myself.

There’s a pause. “Seriously?”

“Yes. No. Maybe.” Our fingers brush against each other again as I hand him the joint and sigh. “I don’t know. I really hope not.”

“And what does this guy have to say about it?”

“I have no idea. She never even told me about him.” Not me, not her closest coworker, not her gay best friend, nobody. Not even the nosy neighbor. “I don’t know if he even realizes she’s dead.” I pause. “Why am I even telling you this?”

He doesn’t answer, inhaling more from the joint before passing it back to me.

Because I need to talk about it out loud, that’s why. On impulse, I ask, “You never saw her with anyone, did you?”

“Nope.” Opening the tin, he shoves a shortbread into his mouth.

“I’m sorry. You probably don’t want to talk about it.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m just . . .” He holds another cookie up. “These are so damn tasty and I’m really fucking hungry now.” He eats another one and moans, “God, that Ruby and her shortbread.”